Waiting for the Sun to Shine Again
by ElisabethDawn
Summary: Sherlock and John adopt a child but a few years after their new-found joy, something unspeakable happens.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello people. So this is a new story that I am writing and it is going to be very angsty, so woohoo for that. This chapter is probably going to suck really bad because I'm no good at beginning stories, but I promise it will get better. I am planning on updating a new chapter every week. Thanks for reading!~Elisabeth**

"Hamish."

John looked up from the newspaper that he was reading and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "Excuse me?", he asked, looking around the room, confused.

"His name."

John was even more baffled now. He looked at Sherlock, who was lying nonchalantly on the couch with his eyes closed and his long fingers steepled underneath his chin. John spoke again with a bit more understanding in his voice this time than before. "Oh, you mean, for a case?"

Sherlock then sat up quickly and looked at John. He then spoke to his husband as if it were an obvious subject. "No,no,no", he said as he waved his hand through the air next to him. "For our son."

John was completely taken aback by that statement. _A son? _What was Sherlock thinking? Was this some sort of experiment, because there is no way in _hell_ that Sherlock actually wanted a living child in the same flat as him. John then spoke again, choosing his words carefully. "Sherlock, are you serious?"

Sherlock looked John in the eyes and spoke with his baritone voice, "Why is this so surprising? We've been married for two years now, it is understandable to start a family now."

John was shocked at how Sherlock suddenly became so interested in the idea of starting a family. He's a _detective_ for God's sake. How on earth is he going to be a father?

Before John had enough time to respond, the detective spoke with the tone that he usually took on when he was deducing. "I was thinking that we should adopt a newborn, as it has a better chance with developing our attitudes and interests. I've looked at nearby agencies online and found a fairly good one in Waterloo and so I scheduled an appointment for Wednesday at 8:30, which, I believe, will give you plenty of time to think it over, but going off of the fact that you're a man who has always been interested in having a family, I think you've already decided."

John was confused and surprised all at the same time. Was Sherlock serious? A baby? _Wednesday?_ John struggled to find his words, "Wait, a-are you sure you've thought this through?" John knew what he was saying, of course, but he was still in shock at the idea of Sherlock wanting a real, life, human being in the flat besides himself.

Sherlock looked at John with an expression that said _"Of course I have, John."_ However, he knew that John's shock was understandable, so he then spoke in a sincere voice to the ex-army doctor.

"John,"

John then looked up at Sherlock, surprised at the tone in which he had just taken. Sherlock carried on, "You know that I love you, that much is obvious by the fact that I married you in the first place, and I want to make you happy in every which way that I can. I've observed this subject in every possible perspective there is and I realised that raising a child with you might not be so bad after all."

John then looked at Sherlock, who had a soft expression set upon his normally cold and chiseled face. John was going over the current events that took place in his head and he realised what Sherlock was trying to tell him. _Sherlock wants a son, too._ John sighed in relief as he spoke to his husband in an understanding tone, "Well, if that is what you want then-" He trailed off, not believing what he was about to say. "I mean, I've always wanted a son and I think that this could be a good thing for us." John couldn't hold back a grin that came to his face as he realised exactly what he was saying. All he knew was that what he was saying felt right.

He loved Sherlock, that much is true, and he had thought many times of having a family with him. Knowing that Sherlock wants a family with him, too, was just enough motivation for John. "So," he said, still grinning broadly, "Wednesday, then."

_Here we go._

**A/N**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so so so so sorry it has taken me so long to update! Also, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I want you to know that I want to complete this work very badly, but it seems that I will not be able to have a set update-time as I had originally planned to have. I do plan on updating at least once a month and I am sorry for this arrangement, but due to some unfortunate events that have arisen in my personal life, this is how it will have to be. Once again, I am very sorry and thank you so much for reading my story! **

**~Elisabeth**

**Chapter 2**

Sherlcok tapped at the arm of the plastic chair impatiently as John and the woman at the adoption centre went over some exceedingly dull paperwork. He looked around the small waiting room in search of people to deduce to pass the time. His pale eyes followed this once couple who were now seated opposite to Sherlock, taking into consideration the long, chipped coffee table placed between them. They were seemingly normal, the woman was smiling gleefully down as she held her new baby in her jewellry-covered arms. Sentimental jewelry, Sherlock observed. The man of the normal couple wasn't so eager to have aquired a new life in his lifem however. He was sitting, looking down at the baby with a smile so fake, he was surprised that his wife hadn't noticed it. Obviously, the 'loving husband' didn't say anything to his wife about how he really didn't want a child, in fear of offending her due to her inability to produce children within herself.

The reason for not wanting the child was not that he wanted the child to be his own, though. No, the _real_ reason for not wanting this 'bundle of joy' was because he already has children. And another wife. Yes, that's it. He has a second family in...Dublin? No, Edinburgh. Oh, this is getting quite interesting-

John was walking over towards Sherlock now, holding a bundle in his arms. Hamish. As John walked over, Sherlock noticed that Hamish was peacefully asleep, swaddled in a blue polka-dotted blanket that he assumed the adoption centre had given to them.

It seemed that Hamish was causing John's shoulder some discomfort. As a result, Sherlock took the baby out of the aching arms of his husband.

It was a strange experience to be holding a baby. _His_ baby. This is Sherlock's child now. It was a terrifying concept to him, but it was also oddly exhilarating.

Hamish was so oblivious to the outside world that was raging constantly. Sherlock found hismelf secretly wishing that he was just as oblivious as the infant that looked so happy without even knowing what happiness even meant. The idea os Sherlock being oblivious was impossible. Everyone knew that. Sherlock Holmes noticed everything.

He also noticed that excitement and uncertainty that was etched into John's face as he stared down at Sherlock and their new son. He noticed the tremble in his own hands because he honestly had no idea as to what happened next. A mix of emotions rose within the detective and he wasn't quite sure if he could name them all.

It seemed like a mixture of confusion, excitement, and happiness.

Happiness?

Yes, Sherlock Holmes could say with certainty that even though he was terrified of what to come, he was unmistakably happy at that moment.

When they arrived back in London, Hamish was still resting. They brought him into the flat, still buckled safely into his carseat, and set him down carefully on the sofa in a position so the seat wouldn't fall off.

For the time being, Hamish's crib was in Sherlock and John's bedroom. It seemed a bit cramped, but they managed with the limited space well. They didn't dare take the sleeping infant out of the carseat in fear of waking him up, so they just left him seated comfortably.

"Tea?", John asked from the kitchen and the question apparently seemed to have startled Sherlock from a deep thought process.

"What?", Sherlock looked up from Hamish suddenly. "Oh, no, no tea for me, thanks."

Unaware of Sherlock's startled reaction, or just too tired to notice it at all, John carried on making tea for himself. Making tea should normally be an easy process but one living with Sherlock Holmes knows that, at times, it can be a very strenuous activity. Having successfully avoided the experiment on the table, John was greeted with a dish of fresh toenail clippings in the fridge. Without wanting to cause a fuss and wake Hamish up, John didn't say anything about it and just sighed to himself.

Sherlock was seated somewhat confortably on the sofa, next to Hamish who was still lying happily at rest in his black, still new-smelling carseat. His tiny hands were loosely wrapped around a stuffed animal bee that Sherlock had purchased in preperation of the child's arrival.

As Sherlock leaned over the carseat in an attempt to shift Hamish's head in an action that was meant to gently readjust the trajectory of which Hamish's neck was at. This would, in turn, cause the neck less pain once the child awoke. But apparently Sherlock wasn't as gentle as he had hoped for and Hamish began to fuss about.

After a few seconds of aimlessly moving his small limbs around, Hamish opened his eyes slowly and looked at all of the new things that surrounded him. After that, he suddenly became aware of his overwhelming sense of hunger, and began to cry.

Sherlock wasn't very well equiped in knowledge in this area, despite all of the research he had done in preperation before-hand. This scared him because everything that he had read about seemed to keep repeating that when your child starts to cry, your 'paternal instinct' will kick in and you will automatically know what to do. Sherlock didn't feel that.

John noticed the fuss from within the kitchen and apparently knew exactly what to do in this situation. Pateral instinct? Probably. If anyone had it, it was John. He took out what looked to be a small barrel of powder and a child's drinking bottle. He looked up when he heard his husband's oice arise from the sitting room.

"I don't know what to do, John.", he said as he made a desperate attempt to cheer Hamish up bu waving the little bee in front of his tired eyes. Sherlock had no idea what to do. Was Hamish still tired? Did he want taken out? Did he want to be left alone? Was he hungry? Did he need a diaper change? Was he afraid? No; Sherlock quickly dismissed that thought from his mind because obviously Hamish had nothing to be afraid of...right? Unless it was Sherlock who frightened him, just as Sherlock had feared his own father. No, he was definately over-thinking this.

John walked over with a bottle filled with what looked to be a milky substance. Milk? No, Hamish is far too young to be drinking cow's milk and its definately not breast milk, so what is it? Oh, of course. Formula. For some reason, Sherlock Holmes was not thinking straight and was having a great deal of trouble in an attempt to process information. A wave of realisation crossed Sherlock as he entertained the idea that he might be experiencing an anxiety attack.

No, that's ridiculous. Then again, he does have shaking hands, laboured breathing, nausea-

"There," John broke off Sherlock's train of thought as he placed the formula bottle in Hamish's mouth. "All he needed was a bit of formula."

"John-", Sherlock spoke at last, after what seemed to be a lifetime of silence on his part.

_"I don't know what to do."_

John recognised right away what Sherlock was really trying to say.

_ I'm not ready for_ _this._


End file.
